damned_institute | Night 58: Chapel

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Night 58: Chapel

[from here]

The room he walked into was larger than he'd expected, but it wasn't hard to guess its purpose, not with the very deliberate arrangement of long red pews. A chapel. Stefan's grip on his knife still didn't relax as he wandered further inside. He'd been in a few churches in his time — what faith in God he'd possessed as a child had waned with too many decades of undead existence, but... call him cliché, he liked Gothic architecture. In his worst moments, he'd enjoyed hunting for victims in church, for the spice of ironic pleasure in knowing they believed themselves to be in a safe house, protected by all those popular fiction vampire deterrents. Save for wooden stakes, fire and the sun, they were all myths. Not that there were any crosses he could see from his cursory glance from the door, or even...

Holy water.

In the dark, the liquid burble of the fountain could've been confused for normal water — or, to the least, one of the less threatening noises in the hospital. You could even convince yourself that the sinister shape rising out of the water was something else from this distance, but Stefan, being able to see in the dark, had no such luxury. Still, the demonic face of the statue barely registered to his mind as he came closer to the fountain. He walked slowly, circling around it, unaware of what he was doing. All of his attention was fixed on the liquid churning in the fountain. Black, blacker than water should've been in the darkness. A deep red flooded the whites of Stefan's eyes. His gums itched. The scent of blood — human blood — hung so heavily in the air around him, he could hardly breathe.

Of course he could tell. Damon might joke that his taste buds had shriveled up after so many years of his diet, but it might as well have been the difference between white wine and vinegar. Human blood and animal blood. And it hadn't been so long either since the last time he'd had a taste of the former, fresh from the vein...

...but he couldn't do it again. Never, no matter how desperate he was. He was starving, yes, four nights and counting, but if he started it up now, under these conditions... There was no guarantee he could reclaim himself again. And he thought of his brother, trying to scheme his way out for all of them, and of Elena, putting on a brave face for their sakes, and of adding another burden on their shoulders. Stefan slapped a hand over his nose and mouth, which helped just enough to let him turn his face away.

Keep fighting.

Stefan spun around, almost faster than humanly possible, and ran.

[to here]

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He had just entered the Chapel when two things came to his attention. The first, and hardest to ignore, was the smell of the place. An overpowering scent of blood flew into his nostrils and caused the ninja to snort with disgust. As much as he was used to the smell as a warrior, it was not one he enjoyed in such strong doses.

Dealing with the cause had to wait, however, when the second issue had his fishing out the Radio from his cloak. He listened to the panting, then to the angered tone of Marc as he claimed that the man Kurogane was searching for was, of all things, sleeping. The ninja ground the backs of his teeth as he focused on the furthered words. He caught the indication that Marc was in town, but found nothing more to be of use other than Marc's continued resolve. If he was trying to seek out patients himself, then the chances of Kurogane or one of the others reaching Landel were better. Slightly.

"So one of his men has died..." Kurogane mulled over after the broadcast ended and he looked back into the Chapel.

There was nothing to do in this building if both Marc and Landel were off in the town, but that wasn't to say that he still couldn't find something of use. Returning the radio to his cloak, he brushed a hand against the hammer handle that he'd set into his belt, remembering how he needed a new weapon. What he could glean from this place he didn't know, but he wasn't going to leave after just arriving. Besides that, he knew he couldn't get to the town without the ring Fai possessed, and he had no intention of seeking the magician out.

As he continued down the main aisle and passed by each of the pews, the scent of the blood strengthened and drew his attention ahead. He saw the pulpit first, then heard the sounds of splashing water as his eyes found their way over to an entirely different fixture. At first he thought it was a statue, sporting a demonic appearance, but with more steps he realized that the piece was part of a fountain. One that, judging by the scent, was pouring out something very different from water.

Should've known, he thought as he reached the fountain and peered over at the red liquid. A fountain of blood, pooling around a stone carved demon. That was something he could have expected in this place. Landel may not have been there anymore, but his tastes unfortunately still lingered.

He checked the plaque at the base, reading over the message there before glaring up at the statue and focusing his senses. He wasn't one to go along with any suggestions of this place, whether written down or announced, but knew at least that anything could become a threat. He had seen statues come alive once before - ones that had been less threatening in appearance than the one before him. He sensed nothing however, though despite that remained as on edge as before. He'd felt nothing from facing the Oni either and had had his senses messed with at times as well.

It was not too long after that his attention shot to the edge of the ceiling, his eyes glimpsing something unknown. When his eyes reached the spot, there was nothing to be seen, but the image remained in his mind. Something had been there, something colored opposite of the room - a whiteness that he had no explanation for. "Che," he snorted and took the hammer at his belt into his grip. "Stupid statues and vanishing white things," he grumbled, then raised his voice to shout more fiercely, "If something's there, then come on out! It's been too damn long since I've had a good fight!"

After the echo of his demand died down, the only response that met him was the continued trickling of the fountain. He still felt nothing in terms of either blood-lust or a presence within the room, and aside from the flowing blood, no movement was to be had. When his patience finally wore out, he snorted once again from frustration and, turning back, gave the nearest pew edge a swift kick as he started back to the door. One of the deteriorating hymnals crashed to the floor in his wake.

He hadn't expected much of the place. It was only one place that Landel had appeared, and that had been before Kurogane had arrived. Still, he had wanted to get something from his trip other than wanting a monster to come at him so he could wipe the floor with it. He didn't need to take out his frustrations, he just wanted to make some progress for a change.

The Chapel door was given about the same treatment as the front row pew as Kurogane kicked it away to head back into the hallway.

As he entered a second time, Kurogane's caution by stealth had been thrown to the wind. He stormed in and made sure to slam the door tight behind him as he demanded far more forcefully, "Get your ass out here before I tear this whole damn place to pieces!"

He may not have had anything that Aguilar had requested in terms of information, but he had more than a few choice words for whomever this "Major Harrington" of the announcement was supposed to be. Even threatening an underling would have been more than he had managed in night's past and, if he was lucky, or else intensely persuasive, he could get some information out of the person.

Ha. Guess he couldn't maintain the "keep to the shadows" routine for long. Yet, he supposed it was time for an unveiling. A reveal. The other man looked like he needed a talking to, so to speak, a calming influence to overwhelm. And what better way to fight a fire than with fire?

A figure stood from a pew at the corner of the chapel, attire as black as the shadows surrounding them. Surprisingly, Claude was not in uniform; given the circumstances, he had been excused from protocol. As long as duty held, he was allowed most everything and anything. As long as he obtained a name, he could protect himself from the worst of patients.

How ironic given the truth of things.

"Ya sure talk a lot fer a fella itchin' fer a fight," he called out, not at all bothering to stifle the accent. The man stretched, weaving gloved hands against the back of his head. A grin appeared, unearthly and almost inhuman, the ends going from ear to ear. "I suggest ya calm down, son."

That he'd missed the man before bothered the ninja for how it reminded him of his decreased powers in the place, yet he was more annoyed for being told to calm down. As though he really had a reason to be calm.

"Why the hell should I?" he demanded, voice still strong and firm, yet no longer at the level of a shout. He was far from calming down, but with the person in view, there was no reason to waste his energy with either shouting or moving to attack.

He'd been in the same room as the Head Doctor on more than one occasion, and each time there had been some kind of barrier blocking the man from harm. While he didn't know the methods of this new leader, he had no intention of making a fool of himself by hitting yet another of the invisible blockades. Until he knew more, or had an answer from Harrington, he would be keeping his position by the doors.

The man would ask why. He might as well have been asking why the sky could be so blue. Maybe he came from a setting where blue skies were lacking; it wouldn't surprise him. Regardless, Claude maintained his posture, sliding his grin into something more amicable. "Dunno," he mused. "Just seems smarter than attackin' a man fer unintentional eavesdroppin'."

A hand detached long enough for a dismissive wave while he stopped grinning long enough to drop the informality for a bit. "Why don't we introduce ourselves, hm?" He lazily saluted with one free hand. "Major Claude Harrington, at your service."

If this man really thought that "eavesdropping" was the full reason for Kurogane's irritation, he was more idiotic than his voice indicated. Despite that, there were reasons for the ninja not to simply jump the man and get the answers he wanted. His lacking weapon, the possibility of a force-field, even the fact that the man was an underling... all were more grounding reasons than attacking just because he'd been listened in on.

"Don't think I'm an idiot. I've got more reasons than that to beat down a lackey like you," he sneered, then watched as the man presented himself like the soldier he was, salute and all. Kurogane had yet to be in a world where he could understand this kind protocol, but he did know the battlefield well enough. The positioned hand was as much a greeting as the introduction and, if nothing else, he could respect when an enemy was decent enough to give his name first.

Though his eyes didn't move from the soldier, he allowed his head to fall enough for a nod as he gave the name he'd used since entering Tomoyo's service, "Kurogane. And if you're 'at my service' then start talking. What the hell's your game?"

[Coming from here.]

Rose slipped into the dark chapel, hearing voices. She clicked off her flashlight almost immediately, not wanting to be seen, especially not by other patients, not when she was here for the reasons she was. Still able to see somewhat in the dark, she laid her finger over Elena's lips to silence her, knowing the human girl's vision was more limited then her own. If they weren't alone here, however, it presented something of a conundrum.

She turned her head, leaning close so her lips brushed Elena's ear, her words so softly whispered that the girl beside her would be the only one able to hear them. "We're not alone in here, which isn't good for keeping secrets. Would you rather wait here by the door or hold on to me? I can still see in the dark, but I know its more difficult for you."

Good, good. He was responding. If anything, 'Kurogane' seemed more furious than hellbent, which Claude could appreciate to an extent. Not so much being commanded to talk, of course, but at least the other was willing to converse. Ignoring the reference to a 'beat down', the soldier hummed in contemplation at the question.

"My 'game' is ta sit here an' take down reports," he replied after a moment, informality creeping in once more. "Boring if ya ask me, but the Eagle's orders are law." Here, the man paused as if hit by a sudden realization. "Goddamn, son, did ya not hear the announcement?"

[From here.]

Oh, great. There was already a crowd. At least the place was big enough to be an observer and still be pretty incognito. That was something.

However, from what his paltry little light could illuminate, there wasn't much in here to stick around for. There were voices and there was a Harrington - the voices proved that, hippee kiyay - but if it was just going to be a bitching argument, it wasn't going to provide any clues. Like him, a couple of women (not bad, if he said so himself) were having the same idea he was.

"Stay behind me," was his only message to Michael. He didn't have time to realize what he'd just said, but either way he shouldered it off as a mere precaution.

Michael couldn't help trying to figure out which members of the Scooby Gang he and his brother would be. In the end, none of it really fit, but it was one way to distract himself from their utterly bizarre situation. The chapel was a place that he felt like he'd been a number of times with a number of people, but in the end he focused on the conversation he'd had with Matt here. That was the reality. His mind was still plagued with a vision, though -- one where he'd been here with a man who went by a title rather than a name (the Doctor) and they'd both been faced with shadows.

Jimmy Novak. He'd spoken to Castiel and judged him for what he'd done. Michael couldn't help but see himself in that now.

He scratched at his neck awkwardly, feeling a bit ridiculous about the blade he was carrying now that it had been made obvious that the halls were all clear. Still, there were other people around, including the one soldier that Aguilar had mentioned. At this point, though, it looked like they might have to wait in line before they could even talk to the guy.

Between getting dragged in by the sleeve and now this order for him to remain behind Noah, Michael was getting annoyed. "I can take care of myself," he said to his brother under his breath. He was the one who was a trained detective, who had handled high-risk situations before. What kind of experience did Noah have? "Besides, it doesn't really look like he's planning to hurt anyone," he added.

"I didn't mean you!" Kurogane barked on another flare of anger.

With the man continuing to act as though Kurogane was an idiot, the ninja didn't know how much he would be able to restrain himself before making good on his violent threats. He'd never done well with people like this.

"I meant this whole damn military! Your boss - 'Eagle' or whatever - what's he trying to do here?"

Of course. Mr. Kurogane had to take the predictable route and claim interest in the overall operation, not what was in front of him. It was a pity--almost pathetic, actually--for one reason.

"Ya know," Claude started, "if ya actually think about it, General Aguilar pretty much spelled it out in his last few talking-to's." The man sniffed, utterly amused. "Yer all experiments, goin' through a rat's maze, blah, blah, blah-- I mean, I could just repeat them word-fer-word if ya'd like." Granted, Kurogane likely wanted specifics, the motives behind motives, but how was a lowly major supposed to know about that in detail?

To share with a buzzard with a fuse of a tissue, of all people.

Wonderful, more visitors. Furthermore, none of them were those he actually wanted to converse with. Guess the two mission failures were chickening out. A pity, as he had hoped for a decent audience tonight.

Like with the females, Claude remained in his seat, eyes tilting momentarily to consider the two men.

[ from here ]

Despite Chipp's display of bravado only seconds earlier, he acted quite sensibly when he charged through the big double doors. He was very quick to launch himself on the side, keeping an eye on the center of the chapel as he jumped onto the seat of one of the pews, and then to the pew before that, and the pew before that. Then Chipp realized that 1) this constant jumping around was actually kinda tiring and 2) there was nothing to dodge.

Nothing at all? Granted, Chipp had only just woken up, so his first thought was that they had the wrong place. Daemon sounded so sure, though, and it wasn't like Chipp was immediately doubting the man. He seemed like he really knew where he was going... but then, where was this guy who was supposedly waiting for them?

Chipp strained his senses, but all he could hear was the faint burble of liquid... and a weird smell. It was a weird one, but very familiar to him once he really thought about it. It was definitely not a smell he was expecting to encounter so soon. Upon surveying the situation, he quickly retreated back to the doors, keeping one eye on the hallway as he motioned Daemon over.

"... Watch out. Nothing's happening, but I don't like it." And he really didn't, warily keeping himself on alert.

Edited 2011-09-23 02:11 (UTC)

The room smelled of blood, which made Daemon tense, recognizing the scent with the ease of one who'd shed more than enough of it in his lifetime. His gaze searched the shadows, searching for the source, but if there had been a slaughter here, he could find no trace of it. Then his flashlight bounced off the fountain at the far end of the room, one that should have been peaceful and calming, but its waters were far darker than they should be, and he realized he'd located the source of the smell.

"Mother Night," he muttered under his breath, turning his gaze away from the sight. He didn't want to think about what the fountain's source might be after dark.

Instead, he went back to searching for the person mentioned on the intercom, raising his voice to call for him. Secrecy wouldn't do them much good when they wanted to be found. "Harrington. Are you still here?"

From a far corner of the chapel, sitting pensively on a pew, was the aforementioned Harrington, who might have looked a tad composed from being in a room permeated with the smell of blood. When one of his next set of visitors called out to him, the man raised a hand, indicating his presence and motioning for the two to come closer. "Howdy," he greeted. They weren't the pair hoped for, but conversation in this place could go a long way. "What can I do ya fer?"

Elena followed suit, shutting off her flashlight and holding it down close to her side. She blinked into the darkness, squinted, and yes, she was absolutely relying on Rose as a guide at this point. She stayed perfectly still as she talked, still desperately trying to see around the Chapel from where they stood.

It didn't seem fair to simply let her walk around in there when she couldn't judge for herself exactly who or what waited inside, but she knew tagging along could very well just make things that much more complicated, since she couldn't even see.

"I'll stay here." Her voice was barely audible, but she knew Rose would be able to hear it, and the seriousness in her tone too, a promise to stay where she was. Literally, right there. Knowing now that they weren't alone (which she was starting to recognize on her own, the soft sound of footfalls and whispers registering) was motivation enough to do just that, wanting this part to be quick and painless for the both of them. If something happened, she was there to help out, but she didn't want to be in the way. "Take your time."

Annnnd now the attention was on them. Well, no need to be shy about anything.

Boy, was that blood smell ever distracting. Gabriel imagined vampires would have orgasmed over the thought of this place. Not that he'd spent a lot of time around vampires, thank - you know. They were so depressing.

"You probably can't." He started his way down the aisle that cut through the pews, intent on at least... a few questions. Once he'd thought of them. Might as well, right? "If you're not Castiel, you're not a soldier. What do you do, sell ad space on the radio?" He looked back with a passing sneer. Regardless, he stayed close. The things he did for family.

Give him a couple more minutes and he might get gushy.

"Harrington, right?" he announced himself once he was close enough, patting his chest just to feel the comfortable weight of his blade. It wouldn't do anything, but it was. You know. There. "How's that whole rebel thing working out for you?"

"I'll be quick."

Rose brushed the words against Elena's ear, giving her arm a light squeeze before slipping away. She was tense and alert, trying to keep an eye on everything at once. The last thing she wanted was for Elena to land in danger while she was feeding, but since they weren't alone in the room, there wasn't much choice.

Sticking to the far wall, she crept through the darkness in as much silence as she could manage, the scent of blood almost overwhelming now. She knew if anyone looked at her in just this moment, they would see her for what she was, could feel her hunger visibly spreading across her features.

Finally she reached the fountain, keeping her back pressed against the wall. She stood frozen there for a long moment, eyes searching the shadows, checking on Elena, checking on the others in the room before she bent her head to drink. She cupped her hands in the thick liquid, finding it warm, as if it were fresh. That should have disturbed her, but she was too caught up in her first taste of blood in days. She'd waited too long, she realized as she lifted another handful to her lips, drinking deeply. Knowing this was here now, however, would make things much easier in the future.

She fed quickly, drinking her fill, or as much as she would allow herself. She maintained control on her instincts far too strictly to allow herself to lose it now. Not when she had Elena to guard. Straightening, she wiped her lips, licking up the last drop of blood. Willing her hunger away, she moved swiftly back to the door where Elena waited, feeling much more herself than she had since her first morning here.

"I'm back," she murmured, laying her hand on Elena's arm.

[From here]

Rapunzel's eyes searched around the darkened room, searching for the figure of a man. It was hard to stop her gaze from getting stuck on the unsettling fountain at the head of the room, shaped like something out of her nightmares and spewing some strange, dark liquid. What was that? She couldn't tell from this distance, even with the aid of a flashlight. Either way, she shuddered.

Soon enough, however, their light did cross a figure in black, sitting in one far corner of the room. Rapunzel took another breath through her nose, setting down her pile of hair. Talking to a man like Harrington would be easier to do if she didn't have an armload to deal with at the same time.

Rapunzel licked her lips. "Major Harrington?" she asked, stepping toward the pews with Facilier not far behind.

The fact that Noah made a guess like that, something that was closer to Jimmy Novak than the truth, gave Michael pause. How did his brother even know about that? He didn't remember telling him, not even when he'd been completely out of his mind. Was it a lucky guess or the fact that so much of their delusion had been shared? And how did that work, when they'd barely had contact in the past few years?

So many of the pieces didn't fit together properly, and yet Michael knew that he'd just have to work at it. He'd make it make sense, because there was no other option. Or there was, but it wasn't one he was willing to choose. He didn't want to fall into that pit again; he didn't want to lose himself.

Either way, he had no option but to follow after Noah. He could tell him the truth of what he did -- that he was an investigator -- but it would have to wait until later. Noah's method of introducing himself to the soldier seemed far too bold considering the circumstances, but the damage was already done.

"He's the one taking information about the rebel," he sharply corrected his brother before giving the uniformed man an apologetic look. Granted, he was wearing one himself, but he had no attachment to it.

After a host of interesting characters including one desperate vampire and a pair of mismatched brothers (well, they were all mismatched when he thought about it), Claude was expecting nothing less than unusual. When a relatively normal young woman and a relatively older man stepped through the chapel doors, he didn't blink at the contrast. He leaned back on the pew instead, waving merrily in their general direction.

"Good evenin', Ma'am! Sir." the soldier chirped. "What can I do ya fer?" Hopefully they were just looking for a friendly chit-chat.

A less stable individual would have given away a reaction at the shorter man's query. Claude, despite fitting into the category of instability, played relatively cool. He smiled widely at the two men, eyes closing in contemplation. "That'd be quite a twist. The off'cer the Eagle trusted enough ta locate the mole is actually the mole himself." He chuckled. "I'd be like that Mustang guy, huh?"

Oh, wait. Neither of them probably knew the reference. There went that joke.

Ah, well. Might as well continue. "Sorry ta dis'ppoint, but yer friend's right. I'm just yer typical intelligence off'cer." He paused here, opening his eyes to give each man a wary look. Staged, of course. "Neither of ya folks have info on the guy we're lookin' fer, right?"

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Night 58: Chapel

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